The Micro-Story Writing Game

by S.j. Johnson on Tuesday, January 3, 2012 at 2:40pm ·

Having a little fun the 'write' way

 

     As a writer I find it is important that I find an outlet everyday to write, even when I have been taken over by writer’s block or just simply find it difficult staying focused to work on my current book, and I find most successful writers do this to keep the gears moving. I personally practice many different writing techniques, something that helps me to stay engaged with writing something every day. This fosters stronger skills as a writer and helps lubricate the process, as well as improves discipline, something that is occasionally difficult for writers to maintain when there are so many things designed to distract us or pull our attention away from writing.

 

     I have personally read your emails and posts, visited your blogs and websites and I know that you have fabulous imaginations and talents and I can hardly wait to see what you can contribute as your micro-story.

 

     I want to promote this simple writing exercise for one month for all that would enjoy it. This will run from January 3rd 2012 to February 3rd 2012.

     We will be featuring a writing exercise game for those that want to participate and for those that just want to read some fun micro-stories.  As an incentive to participate I will give the writers of the top three voted stories a free copy of my book, “The Drive” or “PAGES” (winner’s choice).

 

Simple Rules:   

1.        All pieces submitted must be your own original writing. No plagiarism.

2.        Each micro-story must have a Title (which will not be included in word count)

3.        Each micro-story must be a maximum length of no more than 500 words. There is no minimum length required.

4.        Each micro-story must include ALL of the following items. Items may be included in any way you would like, but your micro-story must included ALL five items:

  • mirror
  • wooden match
  • $ .38
  • phonebook
  • thermos

5.       Submit as many stories as you like, but they each must be submitted separately and follow the guidelines.

6.       Please keep your submissions as ‘PG’ as possible as there are others that may find some possible content offensive.  Respect is good. Anything deemed insulting, too explicit or questionable may be removed so that this exercise remains entertaining for everyone involved.

7.       If you choose, you may submit your story(s) by anonymous donation via submitting through my Facebook email.  Please be sure to state in the email subject line, “ANONYMOUS Story Submission”.  Your story(s) will be posted in the order that they are received, but your identity will be omitted. (You can still win through votes)

8.       You may write your story in any genre you would like. We do not have to stick to one single style of writing or genre, (i.e., Horror, Fantasy, Poetry, Romance, Sci-Fi, etc.).

     * To submit your micro-story; write, or copy & paste it into the next comment box below. Be sure to first add your title, and ‘Enter’.

 

     ** Once you have submitted your story, copy and paste the link in your Facebook status update or click ‘Share’ and then ask your friends to read and vote for your story title by clicking ‘Like’ under your post.

     Of course, you may also read the other submissions and vote, I will personally read every submission and vote for my favorites as well. 

     On February 4th, the exercise will close and the stories with most ‘Like’ votes will be declared the “Winners” and I will contact you through PM to discuss your choice of prizes.

 

     Anyone can enter, anyone can read and vote for any micro-story submitted. The micro-stories will be posted in the order of submission. Prize winners will be determined ONLY by the total amount of ‘Like’ votes for each individual submission.

     Please, don't comment on submissions. If you don't appreciate the micro-story don't 'Like' it.

 

      That’s pretty much it!

 

If we can follow these guidelines then it should be quite an amazing journey and a wonderful experience for everyone.  The last game we did we a fantastic success and extremely funny. If this is just as successful then I am very excited for the outcome. This is going to be lots of fun!

 

Now, let’s start writing!

 

 

S.J. Johnson

*****

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  • Angelina Suzanne, S.j. Johnson, Barbara Selleck and 13 others like this.
  • 41 shares41 shares
    • Tiffany Emery
      Desperate Ending - A micro-story by Tiffany Emery

      As I stood there over the bathroom sink studying the unfamiliar, sunken-eyed reflection in the mirror, I took metal stock of my meager supplies: a thermos filled with $.38 worth of premium ...gasoline sitting on the edge of the bathtub, pages torn from the hotel phone-book sticking over the top, already soaked in the aromatic liquid, and a matchstick pinched between my thumb and fore-finger. I leaned over, kissed my reflection good-bye and picked up the makeshift Molotov cocktail. Laying on the bed, I lit the match on the end table and touched it to the droopy, yellow sheets.The aluminum thermos won't last long with this intense heat. If you gotta go, you might as well go with a bang.See More
      January 3 at 5:35pm · 10
    • Zachariah Ben Bjorge
      Jason's Winning Lottery Ticket - Zach Bjorge

      Jason handed the cashier his last $.38.
      “Look, I know it isn’t the full $.50, but I have to go and unless you want to use $2.50 worth of supplies to clean up the mess I am about to make, I sug...gest you hand me that damn bathroom key, brother.”
      With a defeated look, the cashier handed over the key that hung neatly under the ‘Customers Only - Otherwise: 50 Cents’ sign near the fuel pump intercoms.

      Once inside, Jason took quick stock of the facility: Damaged “mirror” made of highly polished metal as to prevent vandalism, yet provide a semi-reflective surface in case a working girl needs a face paint touch-up. Burnt leavings that could only be the remnants of roughly a dozen wooden matches used to heat any number of possible narcotics.
      Heading into the stall, his head began to perspire with the sweat that one can only secrete after 19 straight hours of driving with nothing in the stomach save a thermos full of bad truck stop coffee. He unbuckled and sat.
      “Only 4 more hours. Just a bit longer.” His voice echoed coldly in the concrete room.
      Jason began to ponder what he was going to do with all of his money once he got to Boise and turned in that ticket. What was going to be first? A new car? This piece of junk Cobalt he took after disposing of the owner got great gas mileage, but it was an ugly color.
      “I’m gonna burn it.”
      His mind began to wander from the money and the car. The cashier. Did the cashier know? Did the cashier see the red coming from Jason’s eyes? Because sometimes it spills out and he can’t help that. He didn’t ask for this. A noise -
      “Hello?!” He sounded panicked, as if someone had heard the questions his brain was asking. “hello?” He whispered this time attempting to downplay how loud his initial reaction had been. Silence. He closed his eyes and dozed.

      He awoke to find himself slipping off the toilet seat and into an unidentifiable pile of who-knows-what. He quickly righted himself and looked around. Due to his initial cursory inventory of the bathroom, he was disappointed to find that he had overlooked the empty toilet paper roll. Jason had always prided himself on his ability to make do in sticky situations. He recalled passing by the filthy, tattered remains of the phone book hanging limply below what used to be a payphone merely 7 feet before he entered the bathroom. He figured he could pantslessly slip out and back into the bathroom in a matter of seconds without being seen. Opening the door a mere two inches to look outside, he immediately noticed the red and blue lights of the local authorities. He must have dozed for too long, prompting that idiot cashier to call them. Jason replaced his pants and strode boldly outside, left hand grabbing for the grenade he kept in his jacket pocket.      See More
      January 3 at 10:25pm · 8
    • Sable Grey
      The Ritual - Sable Grey
      Tearing pages from last year’s phone book, Kelly stuffed the paper into the cushions of the sofa, finding thirty eight cents in the process before emptying the thermos of gasoline onto the rose print of the fabric. ...It had taken her nearly an hour to lug the large piece of furniture out the backdoor of her house and safely away from her home. But she’d done it, and with no assistance from her teenage son that watched her from the window of his bedroom.
      He most likely thought her crazy. Hell, she felt insane herself a few times over the last six months, since she kicked Walter out of their house. It had been rough for her and her son but they’d survived.
      Taking out her compact, she flipped it open and eyed herself in the mirror. She wasn’t bad for a forty something mom. A few wrinkles around her eyes but they still had life in them. She wasn’t dead yet. But her love for Walter finally was.
      She put the compact away and retrieved the box of wooden matches she’d picked up at the motel she’d followed her husband to. She’d suspected he was cheating for months. Then she followed him and knew once and for all. She’d not said anything until he’d brought home the sofa she’d been wanting since last Christmas. It was her breaking point.
      She struck the match and then tossed it onto that expensive piece of furniture, the gift that he’d given only to make himself feel less guilty. “Good bye, Walter, and good riddance,” she whispered as the flames burned higher. It was over.      See More
      January 4 at 8:27am · 4
    • Haelee Wood
      New Year's Resolution by Haelee Wood

      The hunger in his gut was getting worse as he looked at the computer screen. It was like a mirror in the dark showing him, on the one hand his bank account containing only $0.38, and on the other hand h...is lifetime of failed accomplishments. He stumbled to the kitchen to refill his thermos with liquor. He hadn't bothered to do his dishes, opting instead to throw them away. He'd been bitten three days ago, and he knew what was coming. However, because his life had already been a masquerade of failure, he was going to have these last few days finishing his painting. He was a man with nothing left. His life, love, and contentment stripped away. The hunger for live human things was growing worse. It was always growing. The painting was unremarkable in every way, and he knew that, but to him it symbolized his whole life. For the first time since art school he took his time, didn't cut corners. It took another two days to make every detail perfect, and on that day he sat on his couch as he lit his last cigar with his last wooden match. As he smoked his celebratory cigar he realized through the fog of the hunger that it was New Year's Eve. He finished his cigar slowly and as the clock struck midnight he blew his own head off. It was only the second time in his life he finished something that he had started.See More
      January 5 at 3:27pm · 5
    • Lj Johnson
      About a girl
      I pulled a wooden match out of the box to light her smoke, that’s how we met. Not very exciting is it? I can tell you though, best $ .38 cents I ever spent. After a whirlwind courtship she moved in with me. Now don’t get the ...idea that this is a story of how we fell in love and spent the rest of our lives together happily ever after. This is a story about the parts that the Disney movies forget to tell you. Happily ever after takes work.
      We’ve been together for 10 years now. Wow, weird to see it written down. Now that’s a success story right? Well sure it is but what makes us last? What is it that makes us click? It’s not like you get together and look up in the phonebook how to make two completely separate people meld together like soup in a thermos. Here’s the secret: see her every day as the embodiment of all the good things that look at you from the other side of the mirror. She’s the best parts of you personified. Those are the things that you want to keep with you always, protect them, nurture them, and try as hard as you can to never forget that they are there.
      Man, that’s the hard part. That person (she’s sitting right there!), that person is the best parts of your life! It’s so easy to forget when the bills are due, rent is late, oh god another collection agency is calling, what do you mean it’s finals already?! Life gets in the way. Here’s what I’m trying to tell you, look at her (or him). Just look. See? That’s what it is to last. To see her as that one thing you’d give anything to make happy. Make her smile, laugh, enjoy life, all that things you want in life are sitting right there.
      10 years later I’m still trying to remember those simple steps. This little short is more of a confession than a tutorial. Here I am laying it all out. As I sit here writing she’s sitting right behind me, and I realize that it’s been at least an hour since I told her that I love her, so this is the end of my musings. I’m going to post, turn around and tell her without letting my voice waver that I love her. You that are reading should do that same.      See More
      January 8 at 1:54pm · 10
    • Skip Ramsey
      The Last Match - Skip Ramsey
      I love diners. As a matter of fact, the more of a greasy spoon the better. Sitting here with my coffee, listening to the locals down the counter talk about recent killings. I refuse to call them murders and, if... you knew what I did about them, you would too.
      Ok, let me backtrack a little. My names Williams, Tommy Williams. No relation to Teddy Ballgame. I work as a reporter, photographer and all around ne'er do well for The Centurion News Service. The smallest, stingiest news agency in these Great United States. I cover the gruesome stuff no one else wants to. Murders, train wrecks, riots, you name it I get stuck covering it.
      Right now, I'm stuck in a backwater town, in a backwater county, in a backwater state, covering the aforementioned killings. Could be worse, I guess, I could be one of the ones at the local mortuary.
      I look over at the waitress, who's more interested in the mirror in her compact than her customers. I clear my throat loud enough to get her attention and push my thermos forward. "Can I get this filled with some of that road tar?' I ask her. She laughs and fills it with coffee. She brings it back and says "That'll be twelve cents, honey." I toss her a Franklin half, she takes it to the register and brings back my 38 cents change. "You keep it," I say, you're the one that has to put up with people like me all day."
      I leave the diner and cross the street to my car. Once I'm seated behind the wheel I open up the phone directory I took from a phone booth and start searching for the name I know will be there. Sure enough, it's in there. I tear the page out, fold it and slide it into my jacket pocket.
      Time for some some sleep, it's going to be a long, unpleasant night. Sliding down into the driver's seat, I pull the brim of my hat down over my eyes and doze.
      I wake up to a rapping on the window of my car. Framed by darkness, out the window, is the most silly looking grin I have ever seen. I roll down the window and am greeted by a boisterous, "Hiya, Tommy!" "Doc, what the hell are you trying to do give me a heart attack?", I reply.
      "Never!" he laughs and climbs into the front passenger seat. "You ready?" he asks. I nod, start the engine and pull away from the curb.
      Tonight, we are finally done. Tonight, the last of POW camp guards who held Doc and I will be dead. Tonight, the final living tormenter of our fellow soldiers will have a half burned wooden match placed on his lifeless chest to symbolize the young lives they took too early...      See More
      January 12 at 7:38am · 22
    • Len Shields
      As I adjust my mirror in the van to see behind me, my son looks out the window and talks of his day at school. I ask him if he is enjoying his new friends. We had recently moved to the area for my job and wanted to know that he was getting ...along here. He tells that he'd made some new friends. He's enjoying his lunches now. I made a deal that if he helped me with the move he could have a new lunch box and matching thermos. I make his meals from scratch. Oh didn't I tell you, I'm a chef for the restaurant "ET". It's new and the owner is from Turkey. I am just dropping my son off at the sitters, then it's of to the copy place. $.38 a copy for the fliers I need to get for the newspaper advertisement. Another 50$ for the add I'm taking out in the phone book. As I strike a wooden match to light the stove. I know my son and I are off to a great start here.See More
      January 13 at 5:44am · 6
    • Len Shields Sorry I can't edit and I forgot the title..moving on
      January 13 at 5:49am
    • Tiffany Emery
      Lucky Me - The afternoon sunshine was almost too warm against the bare skin of my shoulders, as I sat on the blanket staring at his beautiful body. His face tipped up, his eyes closed, leaning his weight back on his elbows as the sun caress...ed his bare chest with an even deeper tan. The gentle breeze played with his hair. He was perfect. The image of very woman’s fantasy and now he was completely devoted to me.

      I could hardly believe my own luck. I began to reflect on the day we met, back in the city.

      Luckily I had been thirty eight cents short of subway fare and had been forced to stand in the weather for the bus that day. If I had taken the subway instead of the bus, if I had left my apartment just five minutes later, if I hadn’t located the address in the phonebook. If I had done just about anything different that morning, I wondered would have still met? Would his steamy brown eyes have looked into mine and penetrated me clear to my heart, making me a helpless slave to his charms or his instant love for me?

      I had stepped off the bus and before I could brace myself against the gust the wind that pulled my coat open forcing my purse off my shoulder to land under the bus. He appeared out of nowhere and without hesitation reached under the moving vehicle to rescue my bag just as the tires would have smashed everything inside. He steadied me in his arms and rushed me into the coffee shop next to the stop. Safely inside, I pushed my wind mangled hair out of my eyes to look straight into his amazing face. The oxygen suddenly left the room and I found I couldn’t breathe. He asked if I was ok, but I was completely stricken with his magnanimous features as he looked at me. For some reason my mind suddenly couldn’t focus on anything besides his eyes and the feel of his hard chest against me as he held me tightly. In that moment I knew I would never be free of needing him.

      Even overheated from the summer sun I could feel my face blush from my sudden thoughts of desire for him, and once again I focused on the feel of his body. He must have felt my gaze because he turned and faced me and I was immediately propelled back to this amazing day. He poured us more deep red wine from the thermos into our paper cups and handed me mine. The look in his eyes didn’t escape me. The raw magnetism of his desire for me instantly lit a delicious fire deep inside me. He drank from his deeply cup and put the wooden match back between his teeth. I slyly popped open the compact in my bag. I checked my reflection in the tiny mirror and winked at myself. I still couldn’t believe my luck.      See More
      January 15 at 4:39pm · 7
    • Alan Batterman
      FIRST STORM OF WINTER

      Burnt Cabins disappeared in the rear view mirror as he was forced to leave Route 522 which was closed for construction and detour through Neelyton. It was almost midnight, Sunday night, December 11, 1966. He was ret...urning home to Lewiston from McConnellsburg. The snow was falling hard and seemed to getting worse by the minute. He took a swig of coffee from his thermos to keep warm and awake. Suddenly he came to a T-intersection. He had not been this way before; he had stops in Rockhill and Hustontown on the way down and so had taken a different route. There was a sign, but it was covered with snow. He stopped to wipe if off. He opened the glove box to look for a rag and a flashlight. No rag, only a quarter, dime and three pennies--38 cents--and a flashlight with dead batteries. He looked under the seat. He found an old Lewiston phonebook. He tore out a couple of pages. He struck a wooden Lucifer match for light and wiped off the sign with the torn pages. Shade Gap was two miles to the left. That would get him back to 522. As he got back in the car, the snow was letting up a bit. At the stroke of midnight, he resumed his trip, confident that he would get home safely.See More
      January 18 at 2:30pm · 4
    • Alan Batterman ‎*Lewistown
      January 18 at 2:32pm
    • Barbara Selleck
      Raining Tears It was a long, cold lonely night as she drove on the mostly deserted highway. It was pitch black outside, no moon or stars in sight. The cold rain wa...s beating a rthymic drum on her car, as the windshield wipers strained to keep up with the rivers of rain that just kept pouring down. If only she had wipers for her eyes, to stop the tears that kept pouring down her face, but she was left with just her bare hand to wipe them away. As the rain continued to pour, she realized she must have been driving for hours, as she looked at the gas gauge that was now at a quarter of a tank. She reached her shaky hands out for her thermos, only to discover it was now empty as well. Thankfully she had seen a sign that said the next station was coming up in ten miles. She turned the radio on, only to hear, Don't Cry Out Loud...the lyrics searing through her tortured mind...."Just keep it inside, and learn how to hide your feelings", but instead of it stopping her tears, she just cried out even more. She saw the turn off for the station coming up, turned on her turn signal and pulled in. She pulled under the covered area next to the pump. She pulled the visor down, looking in the mirror and began to talk to herself....."Bree Kathleen Smith....."Stop it this minute, your a grown woman...just breathe....breathe." Then she wiped her tears on her sleeve that was already soaked, hoping the attendant would just think it was from the rain. She grabbed her wallet, the thermos and headed inside the station. She refilled the thermos, purchased a box of kleenex, a sandwich and put $20.00 worth of gas in her tank. Her change a measley $.38. Although $.38 wasn't much, it would be enough to purchase a box of matches. She ran back to her car, putting her purchases inside, along with the phonebook she had hidden under her shirt, before she started pumping the gas. As she got back in her car, she opened the glove box, reaching inside for the hidden box of cigarettes. How long had it been she wondered to herself as she pulled one out, sticking it in her mouth. She pulled out a match, striking it and lit the cigarette after a few attempts. She was so glad it was a wooden match, since her hands were shaking so bad, she probably would have burned herself otherwise. She started her car and headed back down the highway, the cold rain still beating across the windshield as her tears continued to fall. She would continue driving, until she ran out of gas....then maybe she would pull out that phonebook and call him.See More
      January 23 at 5:48pm · 7
    • Barbara Selleck
      The Phone Book ......She opened up the phone book, writing down the names and numbers of her friends. She had tried calling the numbers, but each time as she entered the last digit, a few seconds would pass and a recording would come on say...ing "I'm sorry the number you dialed has been disconnected." She was confused, what was happening and why....oh she needed to talk to someone she knew, the panic was starting to rise to a level that was scaring her. She was trying to remember how the day had started and things were a little bit hazy. She remembered getting dressed for the day and heading to Quik Trip to get her thermos filled with the coffee of the day. Then she had went to the YMCA to get her workout of the day in, and somehow managed to misplace her thermos, although she had found it on the table where she had set it down to record her rep's. Then she headed home for the day. She had sat down at her computer to get on facebook, while enjoying the last of her coffee...... the next thing she remembered was waking up and feeling a little woozy. She also had woken up to a dark house, the light switch wouldn't turn on at all. She found a a candle on her mantel with a box of wooden matches, of which she used one wooden match to light it. Then realizing she had to go to the bathroom, she had went in.... and the thought of what happened next is what scared her the most.....she looked in the mirror as she always did, only the face she saw staring back at her...wasn't her face! Her blond hair was gone to be replaced with mousy brown hair, and her face....Omg....it wasn't her....then she had tried making those calls to her friend, no reply.....the panic was continuing to rise...How did she escape this nightmare....she couldn't find her purse, or her car keys, although she had a faint memory of putting the change from her coffee purchase in her pocket earlier. Maybe she could call a taxi to take her to her mother's house...mom would know what to do. She put her hand in her pocket and pulled out the contents, one tube of chapstick and $.38....where was the twenty dollar bill....how could this be happening to her....what's happening to me...someone please...please tell me what's happening.....See More
      January 23 at 8:51pm · 6
    • Alan Batterman
      FIRST STORM OF WINTER (Revised)

      It was 11:30 PM on Sunday, December 11, 1966, when I left McConnellsburg, where I had attended a meeting of the Fulton County Historical Society. As I walked out of the building toward my c...ar, I saw that it was snowing lightly and the ground was already covered. As I turned right on to Route 522 north, the snow began falling more heavily.

      As I passed Interchange 13 on the Pennsylvania Turnpike in Fort Littleton, the snow was coming down quite hard. I had to be in Lewistown by 2 AM to pick up my cousin, Peggy, and take her to Newark Airport in New Jersey to catch an early morning flight to London, then I was going on to New York City on business. Passing the Turnpike reminded me that I needed change for tolls. I checked the cup in which I kept loose change. Just a quarter, a dime, and three pennies--38 cents. I would have to pick up more change when I got to my home which was also in Lewistown.

      When I got to Burnt Cabins, I had to leave Route 522; it was closed for construction. Traffic was detoured through Neelyton. The wind had picked up and it was really storming. I had to open the window and brush the snow off the side view mirror and snow blew into the car. I took a drink of coffee from my thermos to keep warm and awake.

      In Neelyton, I came to a T-intersection. I did not know which way to go; coming down, I had stops in Rockhill and Hustontown and had taken a different route. There was a sign that probably had the directions, but it was covered with snow. I stopped the car, and looked for a rag to wipe off the sign. I could not find one, but under the seat I saw a telephone directory that had been left over from when I had delivered directories in October. I tore out a few pages, and went out to wipe off the sign. The snow and the angle of the car was such that the headlights did not illuminate the sign sufficiently. I had a box of wooden matches in my pocket. I struck a match and held it up to the sign. It said that Shade Gap was two miles to the left.
      As I made the turn, I saw that the snow was starting to let up a little.
      Ten minutes later, I reached Route 522. It had already been plowed once and the snow had reduced from heavy to moderate. I knew I would get to Lewistown on time.      See More
      January 31 at 7:41am · 1
    • Tiffany Glad Barker
      Deadly Pacts

      I could hardly believe what I was hearing, yet somehow I knew it was no lie. They'd taken the city, horrible monsters, and they'd killed thousands already. I switched off the beaten old radio and leaned back against the one b...are wall in my lonely hovel I called home. Pulling out a wooden match I struck it against the floor and lit the cigarette hanging loosely from my mouth. I inhaled deeply and exhaled with a sigh, trying to expell the tense feelings inside of me with that breath.

      I pushed myself up and weaved around the room till I reached a mirror, an ornate thing leaning up against some boxes. I glnced at myself and the ragged scar running from my jaw, across my throat and over my shoulder and sighed. Looking then deeply into the mirror's depths I started to hum, a strange, unearthly tune. In response the mirror's surface began to mist over, then swirl in rhythm to my voice. A smile crept over my face as an image began to form within the swirling mists, an image to make anyone cry. The demon smiled back at me as it took its natural shape, all teeth and filled with malice.

      "What do you wish of me mistressss?" it hissed at me in a whisper and bowed as if in submission. I knew not to believe in its act, one demon is like another and they are all out to serve themselves through us. I reached behind me and grabbed an old phonebook off a paper-scattered desk and began flipping through the pages. I found what I was looking for quickly enough and held the tattered thing up for the demon to see. Its eyes narrowed as it glanced at what was on the page, then switched its narrowed gaze to my face and nodded in understanding. I put the book down and picked up a thermos and shook it, the $.38 inside jingling dully. I shook out, in morse code, my instructions for how I wanted the job to be done. I dreamed of the day when I would have all of my voice back and not just the ability to hum the creature's summoning call.

      "It will be done assss you wissssh," it hissed as the code ended. The mirror went dark and the room brightened. I weaved my way back to the empty wall and slid down it, already dozing as screams began in the distance.      See More
      January 31 at 10:28am · 8
    • Piety Bowling OMG I just realized I went over the word count...oh well at least i was able to share my story
      February 3 at 5:40am
    • Piety Bowling ‎:(
      February 3 at 5:40am
    • S.j. Johnson TIMES UP! THIS WRITING EXERCISE HAS EXPIRED.
      Thank you for your participation. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. Winners will be posted soon!
      February 4 at 8:19am · 2